


Fight for you

by questioningconstellations



Series: time will heal us [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt, addressing their past issues, after the events of 8x05, reacting to that, set some time after 'Weakness'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questioningconstellations/pseuds/questioningconstellations
Summary: Arya and Gendry stay back  in Winterfell when the armies march to King's Landing. Their bliss shatters when news of what happened in King's Landing reaches Winterfell.





	Fight for you

**Author's Note:**

> She tilts her head up as the urge to vomit burgeons.

She looks up from the book they’ve been working on to find him staring at her and most definitely not listening to a word she’s been saying.

She waves her hands in front of his face, “Hello? Anyone there? I thought you wanted to learn how to read.”

He catches her hand and kisses it, “I do. But I’ve got a _very distracting_ teacher.”

She rolls her eyes at him, secretly thrilled but she won’t let him know that.

“Well in that case, I’ll get Ser Davos to help you,” she says, standing up. “Unless...you find him distracting too.”

“Most definitely not,” he replies, face contorting at the insinuation. He reaches for her hand and pulls her towards him until she falls into his lap, his hands settling on her hips. 

She smiles at him, letting her eyes rove over his face. She takes in the cut above his lip, now almost healed. The stubble that’s starting to form on his face and she appreciates the way his hair has started to grow out. _Which idiot has a buzz cut in winter_ , she remembers thinking when she’d first seen him on horseback, riding into Winterfell. She takes in the little lines in his face and hopes they live long enough to see more of these changes in each other. 

With their armies having headed South a month ago and Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons, or dragon as they’d unfortunately learned a few days ago, for the first time, Arya dares to hope. Hope for a life different from the one she’s known all these years. One without continuous fear and uncertainty. One where she can live and not merely survive. 

She lets herself hope. She lets the man she loves kiss her gently while the snow falls in relentless icy sheets outside the window of her chambers. Her hands grip his shoulders tighter and a breathy moan leaves as he drags his lips down her neck. 

His hands fist the hem of her tunic and he’s moments away from pulling it over her head when there’s hurried knocks at her door. 

She groans into his shoulder, easing herself off his lap, “Come in.”

A man she doesn’t recognise steps in. He takes in both of their appearances. Gendry’s mussed hair. Her untucked tunic. Their swollen lips and red cheeks. It doesn’t take a lot to guess what they’d been doing. 

He flushes, muttering quickly something about her sister requiring their presence in the Great Hall before rushing out. 

She turns back and sees him struggling to control his laughter. The sight makes her start laughing and he joins her.

“Did you see his face?” he breathes between laughs. 

“I’ve never seen a man look so horrified,” she replies, leaning against the table in her chambers, smiling at him.

He clears his throat, “Well, I suppose we should go. Lady Stark has requested our presence.”

She sighs, tucking her tunic back into her breeches.

 

* * *

 

They sit amongst the various Northern lords, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Arya’s eyes keep flitting to the great wooden doors, wishing they could be back in her chambers. She’d very much like to finish what they’d started and given the way he’s looking at her, he wants to as well. 

She takes his hand in hers, giving him a tight-lipped smile. _It’ll be okay_ , she tries her best to convey. He nods in response, smiling slightly.

All the lords quieten down when her sister enters, flanked by her brother who’s pushed in on his wheelchair.

Sansa sits down, and her eyes meet Arya’s immediately. Her expression is grim and she gives Arya an imperceptible shake of the head that makes her grip Gendry’s hand tighter in anticipation. She turns to him and they give each other a wary look. 

Sansa clears her throat, “Cersei Lannister is dead.”

The room erupts in cheers but Arya does not join them in their celebration. There’s more and her sister’s earlier look is enough to assure her that whatever comes after is not good in the slightest. 

When the room quietens once more, her sister continues, “However, it is with great remorse, I must inform you that a great many of the inhabitants of King’s Landing perished with her.”

Arya can feel the tension that settles in the room immediately. The only sound save for her sister’s voice is the sound of the creaking of chairs as people sit up straighter in them. Gendry’s arm winds around her back and he pulls her in closer. She can feel his breathing quicken.

“After the Northern Army, accompanied by the Unsullied and Dothraki forces breached the walls of the city and the bells were rung, signalling the surrender, Daenerys Targaryen flew her dragon around the city, burning a majority of it to the ground.”

There’s a collective intake of breath at her words. She chances a glance up at Gendry and sees the look on his face. She’s never seen him stare forward with such horror in his eyes. She tilts her head up as the urge to vomit burgeons. 

Her sister, whose voice shakes slightly now, continues, “Homes burned down and buildings collapsed, killing many with them. Many others were burnt in the streets by dragon fire. The Red Keep collapsed, taking Cersei Lannister with it.”

A quiet rage burns in Arya as she hears of how Cersei died. _Bricks_ , she thinks. _Fucking bricks_ killed her. For years, she’s been consumed by thoughts of how Cersei Lannister would die. She’s dreamt up a thousand gruesome ways for her to meet her end. And none of them she’d deemed good enough to make up for the pain and suffering she has inflicted on so many. She almost laughs at the cruel irony of the death she was dealt. She deserved worse. So much worse.

But her laugh dies before it leaves her mouth when she thinks of the mass murder that preceded her death. She’s seen dragons. Seen their fire. She thinks of the people burnt alive by its flames and it makes her stomach turn. 

“A large part of the Northern Army was retreating when she and her dragon descended upon the city, at the urging of my brother whose whereabouts are unknown as of the letter I received. We will have to wait till another raven arrives to ascertain his well-being. All we know now is that Daenerys Targaryen has declared herself the Queen.” 

She looks up, eyes welling up with tears. She stands up and walks towards the doors. She doesn’t care that it’s improper. _Fuck propriety_ , she thinks. Fuck everything. She walks faster away from the Great Hall, running as the tears flow until she collapses against a wall, heaving as she sinks down to the floor. 

She thinks of the people who burned. She thinks of her brother, wondering if he too was just another charred body under the rubble of King’s Landing. 

She hears footsteps approaching her and she turns to see Gendry running to her. She doesn’t even get a word out before he pulls her into his arms and she lets him hold her. They stay there and cry for what seems like ages.

She pulls away from him and her eyes lock onto his and she hurts when she sees the redness in them. She feels sick with guilt. While she stayed home in Winterfell, lazing in bed with the man she loves, a city was burned down and people were massacred. She should have gone with them. Killed Cersei before Daenerys Targaryen burned a city down to do it. 

The thought makes her pull away from him and she stands up, swiping agitatedly at the tears that won’t stop falling.

He looks up at her from where she’d been sitting with him moments ago, “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“Why?”

She clenches her jaw, “Because I’m horrible. I’m the worst.”

His eyes widen and he pulls himself up into a standing position and pulls her hand as she turns to leave, “No, you’re not. This _isn’t_ your fault.”

She yanks her hand out of his grasp, “It is. I should have gone with them. If I had gone-”

“-You’d be dead,” he finishes. 

She gives him a look, “No, if I’d have gone. If I’d killed Cersei, she wouldn’t have burned the city down. The people of King’s Landing would be alive. _My brother_ would be alive. But I stayed here and let them go.”

He shakes his head at her, “Are you hearing yourself? You couldn’t have stopped what happened. If the Dragon Queen wanted to burn the city down, you bringing her Cersei’s head wouldn’t have changed anything.” 

“You don’t know that,” she fires back. 

“I know enough,” he says. “I grew up there and I hated it but I never wanted to see the place burn to the ground. Flea Bottom’s a pit of seedy taverns and wooden houses? How much do you bet it’s still standing?”

“I could’ve-”

“No, you couldn’t have done anything. Yeah, you killed the Night King. Doesn’t mean you could’ve stopped this,” he says. His cutting tone makes her recoil. 

“You don’t understand,” she says.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t understand nothing,” he says, frown deepening. “I’m just a bastard boy from a place that doesn’t exist anymore. And you’re _you_ , isn’t it?”

“That’s not-” She pauses, sighing. “Why does it always come to that between us? I don’t care about status. I’ve told you for years.”

He turns away, “It’s easy to say you don’t care about status when you’re highborn. You can choose to ignore it. The rest of us can’t just forget it because the world doesn’t stop reminding us of it.”

She goes very quiet for a moment and her voice is measured when she speaks, “Is that why you didn’t want to come with me to Riverrun?”

He sighs, “I knew that if I came, you’d be Lady Stark and I, just a lowborn blacksmith again. As long as we were on the run, I could pretend that none of it existed.”

“So you decided to leave me,” she concludes. 

“Arya, I-”

“-But you’re not that anymore,” she says. “She legitimised you before she left. And she’s Queen now, for better or worse. She’ll expect you to take your place as Lord of Storm’s End.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to accept-”

Her eyes harden then and she moves further away from him, “You’re right. We were foolish to think we’d last. We’re too different. And you’re a lord now. A lord needs a wife. And I don’t want to marry.”

“Arya. That’s not what I meant, I wouldn’t expect-”

“-I should go,” she says, walking away from him, feeling tears well up in her eyes again. 

She can’t get much further before she feels his hand firmly on her shoulder, turning her back to face him.

“Arya, why do you think I came here?”

She blinks in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I came to the North? Why do you think I came here to fight?”

“Because the Army of the Dead would have destroyed Westeros if we didn’t stop it and you understood that,” she offers.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“Gendry, I don’t want to do this now,” she says, turning away. This time, she walks away faster. 

“You,” His voice echoes in the silence of the corridor.

She freezes but doesn’t turn back. 

He walks towards her, until he’s right in front of her. She wants to leave but she can’t seem to move an inch. 

He cups her face, “I didn’t fight for the North! Or for Jon or Daenerys. I fought for _you._ ”

She lets out the breath she’s been holding at his words. Her eyes widen as he meets her gaze and doesn’t look away. She tries to say something but no words leave her mouth. 

He pulls her face close and presses his lips against hers. She hesitates for a moment but kisses him back, tasting the salt of her tears in their kiss. He pulls away a few seconds later, holding her close as he brushes his thumb across her cheeks, wiping her tears. 

She clasps that hand and tugs it, pressing a kiss to the back of it. His eyes soften at the gesture. It’s usually him who does that.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.” 

She looks into his eyes and sees his anguish, hoping he believes her, “I didn’t mean what I said About us. I was upset- I’m _still_ upset. But I need you to know that bastard or lord, I never saw you as any less. I just never realised how it sounded to you to hear me say I didn’t want my title for years.”

“I’m sorry too,” he confesses. “I shouldn’t have worded it like that. I was also upset from before and the anger just came out of nowhere. It made me cruel.”

There’s a strained smile on her face as she speaks, “But you’re right. I didn’t want to give in before but you’re right. If had gone, I would’ve probably died with them.” She sighs, “I just feel guilty.”

He nods before resting his forehead against hers, “I feel it too. I stand here while everyone I grew up with is dead. I keep thinking, if I didn’t come here, I could have been one of them so easily if things had been different.”

His words make her shiver and she pulls him in tightly. “Don’t say that. _Please_ don’t say that,” she murmurs into his shoulder. She can feel his heartbeat against her and she’s never been so grateful for the sound. 

“I love you,” he whispers into her hair. 

“Love you,” she replies, holding him close. She can feel the relief in him at her words. 

But her smile against his shoulder fades away when the thought enters her mind again. 

“She’ll want you to marry,” she murmurs.

He pulls back from her, “Fuck what she wants. I don’t care. I love you and I want to be with you, in whatever way that may be.”

She nods slowly, “Are you sure?”

“Completely,” he responds firmly. “And we will get through this. Jon’s okay. I know he is. He’ll come back to you.”

Her smile drops, “The whole city burned down. I don’t think he-”

“He loves you too much and he’s just got you back. I may not know how to read but I know _this_. He’s going to come back, okay?” 

“Okay,” she says finally, letting herself believe him. 

“Besides,” he says, with a slight grin. “Us bastard boys can’t help but fight our way out of anything if it means coming back to you.”

She doesn’t correct him then. She just pulls her blacksmith close and kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [tumblr](https://questioningconstellations.tumblr.com) if you've got questions about GOT and gendrya or if you just need a safe space to spill all your gendrya thoughts and emotions because I'd love to hear all of it :)


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